


still life

by HisGlasses



Series: Moments of Ignoct - ficlet collection [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dawn - Freeform, Drabble, Feelsy, King!Ignis, M/M, Post-Canon, and cheesy, atmospherical stuff, because we love ornate writing, is it poetry yet?, maybe at least, most probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 13:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21356893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisGlasses/pseuds/HisGlasses
Summary: From the records of a Crownsguard about the 115th Lucian King.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Moments of Ignoct - ficlet collection [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/885240
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	still life

**Author's Note:**

> Words and images that wanted out, wrapped with a little bowtie for you to enjoy, if you like.  
Not beta-ed!

He doesn’t like it when he notices dog ears in books. It makes him frown until that crease between his brows grows a deep shadow and it will not cease until he straightens the pages out again. Careful strokes of slender fingers, bending back what has been crumpled, brushing his thumb over the smoothed out wrinkle with utmost care. His heart laments the rough treatment of the pages that hold vast worlds, some a memory of reality while others are made up of foreign lands and seas of sky. Prematurely aged just by rash and thoughtless hands, wrinkled now and scarred for life. “There you go”, he then whispers as he sets the book back on the shelf, just as one would comfort a child after applying a patch to a grazed knee. He gently pats the creature’s spine, a curl to his lips before his attention returns to whatever it has been ripped away from before.

It’s those little things that make him smile in just that way, secret and in silence. A smile that pleases nobody, that serves no purpose but to stand for itself, a short moment of bliss. The first sip of his matinal cup of coffee. The feeling of the massive wooden table underneath his fingertips. The scent of Sylleblossoms that fill the halls in August.

But none of those surpasses his expression when a warm ray of sunshine illuminates his skin. It is only then that he will close his eye in reverence and allows longing to paint that crease between his brows. If one looks very closely, it seems like the light flows down his cheek in a loving caress. The sun dyes the tips of his swept up hair in hues of white and scars of old seem to disappear for just a moment.  
It’s only then that he reaches up to lower the silver ornament from behind his ear, precious like a humming bird in his hands. On rare and very private occasions he lets his lips touch against the chiselled metal and the smile he gives rivals the brightness of the sun.

“You could have spoken up earlier”, he says with those ever articulated words after the crown is back behind his ear and he turns to face his visitor. “I know when I am being watched.”

“Your Majesty.” The heavy boots of the uniform clatter with the salute. “Pardon the intrusion. The Captain requires a word with you concerning the tenth commemoration of Dawn.”

The King’s features still for a heartbeat, as if time itself has stopped before he steps forward with a graceful swing of his garb.  
“Shall we then?”


End file.
